


Sometimes It's About the Journey (and Sometimes It's Just About Getting Something to Eat)

by AuroraWest, mareebird



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brother Feels, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Gen, Loki (Marvel) Lives, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Road Trips, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraWest/pseuds/AuroraWest, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mareebird/pseuds/mareebird
Summary: Somehow, Loki allowed Thor to convince him that this road trip was a good idea. So far, it's been a terrible mistake.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 128





	Sometimes It's About the Journey (and Sometimes It's Just About Getting Something to Eat)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration between [mareebird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mareebird/pseuds/mareebird) and me, which came from an offhand discussion about the fact that Cracker Barrel seemed like the kind of place that Thor would really enjoy. So, fic ensued.

Loki was questioning his judgment. Usually, he made a decision and stuck with it, unless and until it all went horribly wrong. But things had gone wrong. _Desperately_ wrong. Possibly _irrevocably_ wrong. He was questioning his judgement and his very sanity as he never had before. Why had he said _Yes_ to this in the first place?

It had been Thor’s idea, but Loki could not blame Thor. He could only blame himself for agreeing to it. Now, he was in too deep, several hundred miles from their home base in New York. Of course, the distance wasn’t really the issue. Loki could blip himself out of Middle-of-Nowhere America in an instant. The trouble was that Thor…

Norns, he was just so damn _happy!_ From the moment he had suggested this little road trip, Loki knew he would have to agree; he hadn’t even attempted to talk Thor out of it. And at first blush, the proposition did not seem all that dangerous. A few days driving around the country’s more pleasant sights sounded neutral at worst. They would get out of New York and get a little fresh air. It would be good for both of them.

But that was before…

_Cracker Barrel._

“Brother, look at this!”

Loki closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He was currently sandwiched between two displays in a shop that seemed to sell nothing but useless curios and trinkets, the sorts of things one received as a gift from someone who didn’t know you all that well, but still wanted to get something more personal than a gift card—though in Loki’s limited experience on Earth, the gift card would be preferable.

To his left were peacocks—peacock lamps, peacock jewelry, peacock mugs—and to his other side was a spinning rack of children’s books. Other patrons milled around him, pushing by him in their haste to _ooh_ and _ah_ over the shop’s wares. That anyone would be even remotely impressed by such junk was mind-boggling.

And then there was Thor, waving at him enthusiastically from an aisle over. Loki mumbled a few perfunctory apologies as he elbowed his way through the throngs. His brother was beaming and holding something out; it reminded Loki of the first time he’d lifted Mjolnir from its resting place in the Weapons Vault. He actually looked marginally happier _now_ than he had then.

Loki’s eyes flicked down to whatever Thor was holding. He stared at it for ten, possibly twenty seconds. “What,” he finally said, “is that?”

“It’s a frog driving a truck,” Thor said, as if _Loki_ were the idiot.

“I can see that,” Loki said witheringly. It wasn’t _just_ a frog driving a truck. The label on the shelf identified it as ‘TRUCK GLITTER GLOBE WITH FROG,’ but that didn’t do it justice either. As Loki watched, glitter swirled around in the lit cab of the truck, the frog figurine staring back with its glassy gaze and inane grin.

“I think we should get it,” Thor announced. “As a memento of our road trip.”

“There’s been nothing about this trip so far that I particularly care to remember,” Loki replied, rolling his eyes. “Besides, we just left this morning. And if there _is_ something I want to remember, I can assure you it will _not_ be this place. Now, put it down before you break it. We don’t have the money to waste on it.” Rather, that money could be better spent on food and lodgings.

Thor put the horrendous thing back on the shelf where it belonged. “When,” he said, stressing the word as though he was correcting Loki.

“I beg your pardon?”

“ _When_ there’s something you want to remember about this trip.”

Loki stared at Thor for a beat longer than he ought to have, blinking, wordless. He was doing his best not to trample his brother’s feelings, truly he was, but he was dangerously close to saying one word too many. He turned and sidled back down the aisle before that happened, away from the frogs and their glittery trucks. It was better for the both of them if he kept himself moving.

Who purchased such things, anyway? And where did they belong in one’s home? On the mantle? Over the toilet?

In the toilet?

Loki shook his head to clear it. If they were going to dine in this establishment, they needed to speak with the hostess. He approached a gray-haired woman in a brown apron who was counting out menus.

“Well, aren’t you a tall drink of water! Eatin’ in?” she asked, looking him up and down with unapologetic eyes.

It took Loki a second to register her words as some manner of compliment before he grasped that she was also asking a question. He did not typically receive compliments from the Midgardians he encountered in New York, and it jarred him to attempt a flirtation over something so matter-of-fact as his height.

“I would like a table for myself and my brother,” he said, trying to smile in return, hoping it would speed things along. As much as he wanted to get back on the road, Loki _was_ hungry. If the food was tolerable, then he would muddle through.

“Sure thing, hon,” the woman said. “It’s a thirty to forty-five minute wait. Can I get a name?”

Loki’s stomach dropped. Had he been concerned about hurting Thor’s feelings, moments ago? They had been looking at _glittery frog trucks_ when they could have been putting their name on the list that was apparently required to dine here. Forty-five minutes?! Far from being worried about dampening Thor’s spirits, he was now rather of the opinion that Thor might need to be stabbed.

As he stood there, blinking at her, she leaned over and said into a microphone mounted on the podium, “Lindsey, party of eight!”

Ah. So that was what those regular announcements had been.

Lindsey, party of eight, appeared, and the gray-haired woman handed the stack of menus she’d been counting to a colleague, who led them back into the restaurant. Loki peered longingly after them.

“I’m sorry, hon, did you already give me your name?” the woman asked. “I’m all over the place this morning.”

“I—er, no.” He glanced over his shoulder. Thor was still browsing. They should go. They should get back in the rental car and drive to a restaurant where they would _not_ have to wait practically an hour to be seated. How good could this place possibly be? It couldn’t be good enough to stand around for forty-five minutes.

But then he looked toward Thor again and sighed. His brother really _was_ happy. Loki imagined himself stomping over to him, glaring, snapping about how they should have put their name on a list immediately. But had Thor known that? _No_. And Loki hadn’t thought to check, either, but that was just typical, wasn’t it? Thor left it to Loki to see to everything!

Or…

Loki sighed. Or, he could let Thor be happy about this stupid road trip. It was a little thing, wasn’t it? Loki had once faced down eternity in a dungeon cell half the size of this shop. Surely he could wait forty-five minutes for breakfast.

“Just put down Donald Blake for the name,” he said.

As he turned back, the hostess was wide-eyed. Her gaze had landed on Thor. “That’s your brother? The _big_ guy?”

Loki sighed. Apparently, he was only a drink of water while Thor was a liter. He couldn’t truly pretend to be surprised. “Yes. When they made my brother, they shattered the mold.” Though he was fairly certain Thor had smashed it himself. With his Hammer, of course.

He returned to Thor with a sinking feeling in his empty stomach. Briefly, he considered buying one of the candy bars on display to stave off starvation, but the thought of so much sugar in the morning made him ill.

Thor had taken up station before a collection of flowery women’s blouses, because of course he had. “What’s the news?” he asked.

“There is a...bit of a wait,” Loki said, after a thoughtful beat. He fingered a wind chime, sending a vaguely soothing ting-tang-tong through the store. Thor might not even notice the passage of a full hour. He seemed so enthralled with everything. Or maybe an unfortunate accident would befall a party ahead of them. Wouldn’t _that_ be a stroke of luck!

“Good. That gives us more time to shop,” said Thor. “I found a discount section in the corner.”

Loki followed, his hands deep in his pockets, wondering what sort of garbage they kept to the side, unfit for the main floor. What he found was more of the same, only slightly broken. Nail polishes in ugly colors. Measuring spoons with missing pieces. He picked one up. “I suppose this would do fine if you never need a full cup of anything.”

“Thinking of taking up baking?” Thor teased. Loki was...not the best in the kitchen.

“If it means getting food faster, then yes.” A young woman moved into their space to look at the nail polish, reaching right across him. Did no one teach these Midgardians manners? He tossed the measuring cups back and tried not to tell her that her taste in nail polish was abysmal. “I’m going to wait outside,” he said.

The woman looked at him, her eyes wide as saucers. “Oooh,” she said. “I _love_ your accent; where are you from?”

“Nowhere you’ve been,” he said sourly, stalking off to let Thor mop up any emotional detritus that he left in his wake.

The crowd wasn’t any thinner outside, but at least they weren’t all jammed into too-small aisles gawking at trinkets and housewares that no one needed. He didn’t think he’d actually seen anyone _buy_ anything in that place. Everyone had done exactly what Thor was doing: pick up whatever shiny object had caught his attention: look at it, make a great deal of noise about buying it, and then put it back and forget about its existence.

He rolled his eyes. No surprise, Thor was just like the humans that he loved so much.

“ _Alex, party of three_ ,” the loudspeaker voice said. Loki sighed.

The door thumped shut behind him and he heard Thor say, “Oh—sorry—excuse me—” before arriving at Loki’s side. They stood there in silence. Loki knew he was radiating irritation and Thor seemed hesitant to speak. _That_ made for a nice change. Thor had prattled endlessly for the _hours_ it had taken them to get this far into their road trip, about all the things they were going to see and how they were going to get a real taste of Earth and they were going to understand it so much more—he’d really meant _Loki_ would understand it so much more and at the time Loki hadn’t had the heart to tell him that was wishful thinking. It hadn’t bothered him while it was actually happening, but the memory of it annoyed him.

Just as it annoyed him now to have so many eyes turn in their direction. Loki doubted anyone recognized them, but they could not help but stand out. He and Thor were too tall, too obviously from out-of-town, their voices too accented. Loki had spent the length of several human lifetimes with eyes narrowing on him, judging him. Perhaps it had twisted his mind and made him needlessly paranoid, but his skin itched. He could not help it.

“We don’t have to stay here,” said Thor. His voice was low. Loki was shocked to hear him speak so gently. “We can...get food from a drive-through.”

Loki sighed. “No… no. This is fine.”

“You are clearly not comfortable.” But Thor's voice remained unaccusing, patient; it was more than Loki deserved, he realized, after fuming so openly. And it had always done something to his spirit when Thor spoke that way. An older brother looking out for his younger one. As though they were not who they were; had not been through what they’d been through.

Loki shrugged. “I’m hungry. I don’t do well when I’m hungry.”

“Nor I.”

And then, a miracle. “ _DONALD, PARTY OF TWO._ ” Loki thought he might ascend to Valhalla then and there.

“That’s us!”

They hurried through the shop, almost jogging, back to the hostess stand and the older, flirtatious woman. “Oo,” she cooed, seeing Thor beside him, “today’s my lucky day.”

Thor smiled, looking absurdly flattered by this. Loki forced himself not to roll his eyes, made easier due to the fact that two menus were being handed to another staff member, who smiled at them and said, “Right this way!”

They had to squeeze past another family to get into the dining room, but it didn’t matter. Loki would have followed their server to Hel and back if it meant getting something to eat. They were led past a huge fireplace that reminded Loki of Asgard, then seated at a table that most certainly did not. It was meant for two people, but not two people of their height. Loki’s knees hit Thor’s as he tried to pull his chair in and Thor accidentally knocked a bottle of ketchup off the neighboring table.

It rolled toward Loki and he scooped it up, then placed it back on the table. “So,” he said, opening the menu. “What does one eat here?”

“Hi, welcome to Cracker Barrel!” someone chirped. Both of them looked up to see their waiter, who looked like a child. Didn’t humans have school? Or—maybe it was the weekend. Loki wasn’t very good at keeping track of such things yet. The waiter pulled out a tablet. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Latte? Orange juice?”

“Coffee,” Loki said quickly and firmly. He didn’t want Thor asking if there was any beer available. “ _Two_ coffees.”

The waiter tapped away at his tablet and grinned, “Okay, I’ll have those out for you in a second!”

The bright smile on his face made Loki’s cheekbones hurt in sympathy. Luckily he left so Loki didn’t feel compelled to return even a fraction of it. Turning back to the menu, he studied the breakfast options.

Old Timer’s Breakfast...Grandpa’s Country Fried Breakfast...Uncle Herschel’s Favorite... His brow furrowed. Who were these people, and what had they done to warrant having these breakfast plates named after them? Was Old Timer a third person, or was it referring to Grandpa or Uncle Herschel?

Loki lifted his eyes above his menu, trying to get a read on Thor, but his brother’s face was buried. He flicked back to the words on the page, wondering if they might make more sense on the second pass, but he had no such luck. “Thor. _Thor..._ ” he hissed, until Thor looked up. “Do you understand what you’re reading?”

“...No, not really.”

“It appears to be the same platter over and over. _Two eggs cooked to order with grits, sawmill gravy, homemade buttermilk biscuits, real butter and the best preserves…_ It’s the same thing five times, but with different names.”

Thor scratched the back of his neck, squinting at the menu in his hand. “I think it’s the meat accompaniment that’s different from platter to platter.”

Loki frowned. “But they all have meat. And it’s the same meat! _Choice of sausage patties or link sausage or thick sliced bacon or turkey bacon—_ ”

“This one doesn’t,” Thor said, cutting in, pointing to a spot on the menu that Loki could not see from where he sat. “This one has steak.”

Loki scanned his menu until he found what Thor was talking about. He blinked a few times. “What in Hel is a _country fried_ steak?”

Thor closed his menu. “I don’t know, but it’s what I’m getting. Food is food.”

Loki sighed. His eyes continued to drift across the page. If only he could be so easily satisfied, but all food was not food; he had standards. “They have pancakes. I know what those are.”

“Then get those.”

“If I get pancakes, I’ll fall asleep in the car.”

“Then drink extra coffee.”

“Did someone say coffee?” Their far-too-young and far-too-cheerful waiter had returned, but he had indeed returned with mugs and a steaming hot pot of coffee. The boy was Loki’s new favorite person.

As the waiter poured their coffee, he asked, “Are you ready to order? Or do you still need a few minutes?”

“We’re ready,” Thor said. It felt nice to be of the same mind with his brother on something, even if it was simply ordering breakfast as soon as possible. The waiter pulled out his tablet again, tapping away at it with a stylus. It was very...at odds with the general atmosphere of the place. At the other restaurants (admittedly few) that Loki had been to on Earth, the waiters wrote everything down on paper, or wrote nothing at all.

The more he thought about it, the more Loki felt that it was a betrayal of the restaurant’s theme for its waiters to take diners’ orders with the aid of a computer. Everything about this place screamed ‘old-timey’—including a faux-distressed metal sign hanging above their table, which literally said those words—and here their waiter was, selecting Thor’s order on an iPad application.

Perhaps he was, somehow, even hungrier than he’d thought. Stifling his annoyance, he reached for his coffee and gulped at it. Mistake. Terrible, terrible mistake. It was far too hot. It was an effort not to spit it across the table, but if he did, he’d never live it down. Instead, he choked it down, feeling like it was blistering his throat.

“And for you?” the waiter asked, turning away from Thor.

Loki cleared his throat, trying to will his eyes to cease watering. Thor seemed to have noticed his distress. Clearing his throat again and ignoring the way Thor was looking at him, Loki said, “I’ll have this...er, Cracker Barrel Country Morning Breakfast.” It seemed inoffensive. Eggs (which he obviously knew) and grits (which he did not, but he could discard them if necessary, which seemed likely, if their name was an indication of their palatability). The plate also came with ‘All the Fixin’s,’ which was mystifying, but Loki didn’t want to ask for clarification and risk their food being delayed any longer.

“Great choice!” the waiter beamed. He’d said the same thing to Thor, which Loki had vaguely noted through the third degree burns developing on his esophagus at the time. This rather led Loki to believe that it wouldn’t have mattered what either of them had ordered; this chipper young man would have extolled its virtues regardless.

“Are you all right?” asked Thor, clearly unsure how to broach the subject of whatever Loki had just done to his mouth.

Loki stretched his jaw, trying to make as much space inside his mouth as he possibly could, allowing air to flow. There was no water on the table yet. Really, all Loki wanted to do was dip his tongue into a glass full of ice. Instead, he picked up a napkin and dabbed at his mouth. “Hot,” he said, the word itself sounding like a curt growl.

Thor picked up the bowl of creamers, as though Loki had missed it. “Here. Add milk.”

“If I liked milk in my coffee, I would have added it before drinking.” He did, however, like a good amount of sugar. He reached for the packets of sweetener and ripped open a few. It was vaguely cathartic.

Thor followed him with his eyes, wisely suppressing his amusement. Then, his gaze fell on something that made his expression light up with curiosity. “What’s this?” He reached toward the sugar and dessert menus and pulled forth what at first appeared to be a chunk of wood. It was covered with colorful plastic sticks, like nails that had been set but not hammered down.

He placed it between them. Loki narrowed his eyes. There were words printed on the wood. “Peg Game? It’s a game.”

“How do you play?”

When Thor stared expectantly at Loki, he realized his brother actually thought he knew the answer to that question. “How should I know?” he replied.

Thor shrugged. “You possess all manner of random knowledge.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or a slight.”

With a grin, Thor pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped away at it until he exclaimed, “Aha! There’s an instructional video. Oh—look, this says you need to be a genius to win the game.”

Loki arched an eyebrow. “That precludes _your_ victory, then.”

Thor smirked at him and put the phone down on the table, propping it up against the basket of condiments and pressing play. Both of them leaned close over the phone and watched intently. When it ended, Thor said, “Well, that seems simple enough.”

Loki folded his hands on the table and smiled a little. “I insist you take the first move.”

Thor stared for a long time at the board. A long, long time. Long enough that Loki plonked his elbow on the table, rested his forehead on his fist, and said, “You know, it isn’t chess.”

Waving a hand for quiet, Thor said, “Stop trying to distract me.”

Loki sighed and blew a puff of air out of the corner of his mouth, tucking his hair behind an ear. Finally, Thor selected a peg to move, jumping it over one of the pieces and removing that peg from the board with great ceremony. “I’m winning,” Thor said.

“That _is_ the advantage of going first,” Loki said, drumming his fingers on the table as he contemplated his first move. He had no intention of taking as long as Thor—the game was _not_ complex and he refused to pretend that it was. With a relaxed air, he hopped over one of the red pegs. “And now we are tied.”

Thor moved again, this time more quickly. These opening moves hardly mattered. There were only so many pegs one could jump. “And now I pull ahead.”

“You do realize that no one is ahead until the game is over, right? You need to force me into a position where I have no moves to make.”

“Just...keep...telling...yourself...that.” Thor made another overly thoughtful move, leaving Loki a board where he finally had options to consider. Now he wanted to win out of fear that he would end up looking ridiculous if he did not.

A minute ticked by, and then another, while Loki studied the board. Thor cleared his throat and said, “You’re certainly taking your time, brother.”

Quickly, Loki made his next move, though the moment he’d done it, he regretted it. Damn. _Hel._ That had been a mistake and it left Thor an opening to separate too many of the pieces if he noticed. Loki prayed he wouldn’t notice. Was there a God of Pegs?

At that moment, their food arrived. As their waiter set both plates down, he said, “Playing the Peg game, huh? Who’s winning?”

“I am,” Thor said. “Easily.” Loki gave him a withering look.

“So, can I get the two of you anything else?” the waiter said. “More coffee? Maybe a couple orange juices? Any other Fixin’s?”

It occurred to Loki, as Thor gave serious consideration to this question, that he could quite easily cast an illusion and take back his latest move. In fact, he could give Thor a more unfavorable board in general, because now that he was looking at it again, he could see that it was indeed a very real possibility that Thor was going to prevail as victor.

Oh, it was so tempting. His brother wouldn’t notice, and if he did, Loki would simply blame it on hunger playing tricks on his memory.

But it would not have been winning, not really, and the only thing he would have succeeded in was costing Thor the glory of a victory legitimately earned.

Loki sighed, turning aside from the game as he requested a refill of his coffee. When had he truly begun to care about Thor’s feelings, of all things? The waiter departed. Loki turned his attention to the plates on the table. It was far too much food for a human, but suitable for an Asgardian—or Jotun, as the case may be. Loki was pleased to recognize everything on his plate as edible. Thor’s country fried steak looked horrid, but it smelled delicious, to be honest.

With only a base amount of decorum, Loki began shoveling food into his mouth. Thor, as usual, was less neat about it, and there was gravy in his beard when he turned his attention back to the game. He moved a peg and returned to eating.

For whatever reason, it made Loki smile. He moved a peg without thinking as much about strategy. It was a silly game on the table of a chain restaurant, meant for nothing but passing the time between sitting down and eating. Was strategy really _all_ that important?

Thor moved again, as did Loki. Thor really did seem happy. Happy to be sitting here at this too-small table, happy to be eating this mediocre food, happy to be playing this game. His brother slurped at his coffee and moved again.

Somehow, neither of them had cornered themselves into losing. Loki chewed at the inside of his cheek and ate another forkful of grits—which were, truth be told, mostly tasteless. He could win, he realized. With his next move, he could make it mathematically impossible for Thor to defeat him.

His hand twitched out, a triumphant smile already spreading across his face.

Then, he glanced at Thor again. He was sawing away at his country-fried steak, looking for all the Nine as though this was exactly where he wanted to be.

Loki blinked, feeling something tight in his chest. Perhaps this _was_ exactly where Thor wanted to be. Perhaps...perhaps Loki didn’t mind being there either.

He made his decision. With an intake of breath, he moved a peg, then grabbed his coffee mug to hide his smile behind it. Thor stuck a piece of country-fried steak in his mouth and looked at the board. With a grin, he said, “Ha! I win!”

“Did you?” Loki said. “It’s a ridiculous game, anyway.”

Their eyes met and Thor’s eyes wavered. Loki kept his mug high, covering his mouth, waiting for Thor to move the peg. Did he know? Loki wondered if he ought to have reacted more strongly. Had he lost too obviously?

Thor grinned. Without a word, the final peg was moved, and he realized that Thor probably did know...and Loki also realized he had made his brother happier than he ever could with a genuine loss.

“Good game,” said Thor, turning back to his food.

“Yes, it is designed well,” commented Loki.

The remainder of their breakfast passed as it did at every other table. They might as well have been as human as anyone else. They ate, they had second cups of coffee, they chatted about the bizarre items on the dessert menu and wondered if people at Cracker Barrel ate dessert after breakfast. And then they ordered a slice of pie with more ice cream on top than should have been permitted by law.

When they were done, they paid at the register. Loki advised Thor to take a trip to the restroom before they got on the road. Thor did so, commenting that it was a good idea considering the amount of coffee he’d drunk. Loki smiled blandly and agreed.

Once Thor was safely out of sight, Loki turned and made his way back into the depths of the shop. It was no less crowded than it had been earlier, but Loki knew what he was looking for now. He hated himself a bit for it, but he had a purpose.

The stupid frog was grinning up at him, glitter swirling in the cab of its little truck. It was wearing a bow tie...with what appeared to be a denim shirt. Loki sighed. What a terrible thing. How completely unsurprising that humans would have come up with it.

He scooped up the box, brought it to the register, and paid for it, before going outside to wait by the car. The absurd item was bagged, which was really for the best as he hadn’t wanted to be seen carrying it.

Finally, Thor appeared, strolling out of the restaurant with a broad smile on his face, as though all was right with the world. Loki supposed he couldn’t think of anything pressing that was wrong. That was saying something. When Thor caught sight of the bag in Loki’s hand, a puzzled expression flashed over his face.

“You bought something?” he asked, sounding confused.

“It certainly appears that way,” Loki said.

“What?” Thor asked, unlocking the car.

Without answering, Loki slid into the passenger seat, cradling the bag on his lap. When Thor got in on the driver’s side and shut the door, Loki pushed the whole thing toward him. “Here. It’s for you. As a memento.” As Thor bemusedly opened up the bag, Loki added, “I assume there will be other things we wish to remember as well, but...this was...a good start to it.”

Thor pulled out the box, which had a black and white picture of the frog, signaling its contents, a broad grin split his face. “I thought you hated this!”

“I do,” Loki said. He rolled his eyes and looked out the window, then glanced back to Thor. “But you like it.”

“That matters, does it?” Thor asked, smiling, but—simultaneously, looking almost concerned about what he was going to hear in response.

Loki snorted. “Don’t be an idiot.” He would rather have left it at that. But that uncertain look was still on Thor’s face, and Thor shouldn’t have doubted the sincerity of Loki’s love for him. There were many things to doubt Loki about, but that wasn’t one of them. It made him add, “Of course it does.”

Thor stared at the box, still smiling. Then, he reached over and pulled Loki into an awkward hug. Loki grumbled inarticulately but, after resisting a moment, raised an arm and hugged Thor back.

The hug went on too long, of course, as Thor’s hugs tended to do, so Loki said, “Alright, alright, it’s just a silly knick-knack, honestly, it’s not as though I just bought something of any value. Let’s go, or we’ll never get to our lodgings for tonight.”

With a chuckle, Thor obliged, though not without patting Loki on the shoulder. He put the frog in the backseat and turned the key in the ignition. Before he started driving, though, he said, “It may be a silly knick-knack, but it has value to me.”

“Brother, we’re quickly reaching my threshold for sentimentality,” Loki said. Thor laughed and Loki couldn’t help but smile.

Then, Thor put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. Cracker Barrel disappeared in the rear view mirror, but not before Loki glanced once more at its tall, lit sign, towering over the highway. Perhaps his judgment to indulge Thor in this trip wasn’t so poor, after all.


End file.
